Like You Mean It
by fifthofnovember
Summary: House/Ali. Written several months back, and yes, I know it's been done before, but it wouldn't get out of my brain. Ali shows up on House's doorstep on her 18th birthday. PWP, for the most part.


House had forgotten what day it was. After all, it had been almost exactly six months, and in truth, the day hadn't been all that important to him to begin with. Sure, he'd toyed with the idea off and on (mostly in the shower) for a few weeks until he'd exhausted all possible variations of that particular fantasy and had moved on to new ones, like the one where Cuddy's hand slides up his thigh (the good one, of course) during the monthly budget meeting. That one was his current go-to.

He'd all but forgotten who she was, actually. Except for when she showed up at his door in the middle of whatever it was he'd been trying to convince himself he was watching on TV as an excuse to fight a bottle of scotch to the death. It hadn't been looking good for the bottle when the knock on his door came. He almost got angry, but curiosity won in the end, as it always did with House. Didn't mean he wasn't still annoyed. When he saw who was at the door, he just muttered "Oh Christ" and ran his fingers through his hair while collapsing against the door frame.

"Not the welcome I was expecting, Dr. House. Especially on my birthday!" Ali said with her best seductive smile, which was actually pretty good.

"Yeah, I figured that. Every time you've done this in your mind, I tear your clothes off and make slow, passionate love to you on the floor before you can even say anything." Actually, in _his_ mind, he'd bent her over the coffee table and it had been anything but slow, but whatever. Details. "How close am I?"

"You're psychic." She almost grinned and started to twirl her hair around her fingers, then stared at him expectantly.

"And you're psych_o_. How the hell did you find out where I live anyway? Did you follow me home?"

"Nope. Google. Easy," she chirped, primly, and then added, "something on the hospital website came up." House made a mental note to kill Cuddy if Ali didn't chain him to the bed and take his cell phone first. "Anyway, I think I'm still sick."

"Finally, we agree on something."

Ali looked at him crestfallen. "No, I mean, I took all the pills for my…thing…"

"Coccidioides immitis." House went for the gross out. If he couldn't deter her with insults, maybe the thought of fungus in her head would still work. It did once.

"Yeah. That. And I still want you." She looked down as she kicked around a small rock on ground. "God…I still want you so much." Apparently head fungus wasn't as repulsive as it used to be. House found himself wishing it had been worms instead. Far more disgusting. "And I still don't feel all that nervous telling you. I mean, I do, sort of, but…wasn't that part of it? Reduced inhibitions? If I wasn't still sick, I wouldn't be here, would I?"

"Again we agree." He'd actually made up the whole "lack of inhibition" thing. Little had he known at the time it would eventually put her on his doorstep.

"Look. I'm not a stalker. Really. I know how I seem. I just…I mean…weren't you ever 18 years old, and there was that _one_ girl that you'd have done anything to have? And you probably made an ass out of yourself, too, didn't you?" Andrea Beckman. He'd been 19, actually. And he had. Bigtime. In front of all of her friends, no less. He hadn't always been this debonair. "Remember how much you wanted her? That's how much I want you. And yeah, it's making me a little crazy. I've been trying to stuff it down for six months, remember? I'd do anything, _anything,_ for one night with you. For even one kiss." Ali blushed at that. Even her ears burned as she heard herself plead to touch the man that stood before her, but every word she'd told him had been the truth.

House was an experienced enough liar to know when he was being lied to. He was also an experienced enough liar to know when he wasn't, and Ali was definitely sincere. Truly insane people don't generally know they're coming unspooled, and they almost never stand before you and admit to it. He'd let Cuddy blow the whole thing out of proportion in his mind. She was just a hormonal, awkward young woman deeply in lust with an older man she perceived as cultured, mature and sophisticated. The feelings were new to her and so intense she didn't know how express them appropriately, much less how to know when not to express them. She had gone over the top, but hadn't he nearly 30 years ago? God himself only knew how much money he'd spent on flowers that probably just got thrown in the trashcan and how much time he wasting composing love notes that made him the object of ridicule rather than lust. Just backing off would have gotten him further. As much as House wanted to, he really couldn't fault her. He couldn't see in himself why she wanted him this much, but he couldn't fault her for it.

He took a deep breath and decided on damage control as he mustered up self control. She was pretty; beautiful, even if she was a little coltish and still trying to become accustomed to her body. There was no denying that, and he would have questioned his own sanity if he _hadn't_ jerked off in shower thinking about her. Still, doing someone in your mind and doing anything with them in the full flesh were so different as to be mutually exclusive. Nevertheless, his curiosity had gotten the best of him, scotch assisted, and he was convinced enough she wouldn't be breaking into his apartment any time soon to indulge it just a little. After all, he was mature. Definitely mature. Not at all like the sex-crazed boys she was probably accustomed to.

"OK, so let me get this straight. One kiss and you'll leave?" She looked at him, disappointed. He smiled a self-righteous smile and reminded her that she'd said _anything_.

"Well…" she considered her options for a moment. One kiss was better than nothing, _far_ better than nothing, but Ali knew if she got even a little taste of him, she'd just want more. Still, knowing what it would be like to kiss him would be better than never knowing what it would be like to touch him at all. That was some satisfaction, anyway. "All right. One kiss and I'll leave. I'll never try to find you again. But it's got to be a _real_ kiss. Like you mean it." For some reason, House didn't think meaning it was going to be the problem. It was the not meaning it that was going to be the hard part. But he was mature and in control of the situation.

House suddenly felt exposed and nervous. Kisses were usually not negotiated. "Fine. I'm going to hold you to it though. No trying an end-around on me."

Ali shook her head earnestly. "No. Absolutely not." No way she was going to jeopardize this opportunity.

He nodded skeptically. "I can't believe I'm doing this, but get in here and close the door. I don't need my neighbors knowing about this." _Although it might earn me a few points with the guy upstairs that thinks I'm gay because he never sees anybody but Wilson come in here_. Ali felt rooted to the spot. She wanted House more than life itself at that moment, but she felt absolutely paralyzed. This had all been so much easier in her fantasies. Yet somehow, she found the courage to oblige, stepping just inside the threshold of the door and closing it behind her. She stood with her hands at her sides, shifting her gaze like a frightened baby animal left alone for the first time, not sure what to do.

He took a step towards her, leaving his cane (the very presence of which reminded him of why this was a horrible idea) against the coffee table behind him and shifted his weight on his good leg. He was so close to her she could feel the heat radiating from of his body. She was staring at his chest, unable to bring herself to look him in the eyes. This was well beyond awkward and he felt 18 again himself, although the feeling wasn't entirely unpleasant. He waited. Ali still didn't move. He tipped his head sideways, trying to catch her eyes. "So….?" He didn't know what else to say or do. Had it been anyone else, he'd have just grabbed her, pinned her up against the door and kissed her until she couldn't breathe. Somehow in this situation, that just seemed crass, even for him.

She finally met his eyes, her own as big as saucers, her lip trembling slightly. "So?"

"Do you want this or not?" House was surprised at how impatient and annoyed he _didn't_ sound.

"More than anything." She veritably sighed the words. House relished the shudder of anticipation that crept down his spine. Still, one of them had to move.

He bent his head toward her and hesitated as her eyes flickered closed. Her breath caught halfway between in and out, and then rushed from her lungs at the first brush of his lips against hers, so light she almost couldn't feel it, but at the same time so intense she felt dizzy. Her arm shot out and clutched at his, sliding up his shoulder and resting at the back of his neck. "More…" He felt her say the word against his mouth rather than hearing it. He had promised her a real kiss, and she wasn't going to let him out of his end of the bargain. He'd actually had no intention of trying to get out, but he'd have never told her that.

Letting himself be drawn in closer, he let her kiss him softly, opening her mouth a little each time until she got brave enough to call his bluff and he felt the tip of her tongue against his lips. His body electric with nerves and his mind yelling at him the entire time, demanding to know what in the name of hot buttered Jesus he thought he was doing, he parted them against hers and their tongues slid together. Ali moaned at the feeling, a sound so genuine House felt it in his bones. Her other hand reached up to cradle his jaw, her fingers trying to memorize the feel of his whiskers against her skin, wanting to remember forever what it had been like to touch what had so long existed only in fantasy.

She stood on her tip toes and tilted her head, silently offering herself up to him and clinging to him desperately, knowing the moment had to end sometime but wanting to draw it out for as long as he allowed. House slipped his right hand around her waist, consciously making sure to avoid any parts that were too good and swore he felt her knees buckle. She linked her arms around his neck and whimpered again, still unable to believe this was really _him_, really _this_, taking a mental inventory of everywhere their bodies touched and what it felt like. He was so solid and hot and strong, so much a man, not wiry and lithe and smooth like the boys her age that she'd kissed.

House was relatively certain that he was kissing her like he meant it, because he absolutely did. There was only one thing that compared to kissing a teenage girl – no, scratch that. There was nothing that compared to kissing a teenage girl, and one certainly couldn't appreciate the finer points as a teenage boy. She tasted like innocence and passion and any number of other things he had forgotten because he hadn't experienced them in so long. He was positive if he moved his arm away she'd collapse into a puddle of goo at his feet, and that thought made him feel like he was king of everything. She was actually a decent kisser – no, scratch that too. She was a fucking phenomenal kisser, all raw passion and desire and emotion, not hurried and rote like the women his age that he'd kissed and the hookers that never kissed him at all. She, of course, didn't need to know about them, or about how much he'd missed being kissed like someone meant it. That was the point that he realized he was about to be in _huge_ trouble if he didn't stop like right fucking now.

Somehow, and he wasn't even sure how, he managed to maneuver Ali back onto her flat feet and when he was sure they could both stand unsupported, he relaxed his hold on her and with great reluctance, separated his mouth from hers. Her head went immediately to his shoulder and he could hear nothing but her panting in his ear. Again, had she been anybody else, he'd have told her it was just a kiss and that she should get a grip, but she already had a grip. It just happened to be firmly around his shoulders. Her panting had morphed into pleading, mostly just nonsense but a good bit of _oh god_ and _please Dr. House I want you so much_ and _just a little more_ was mixed in there too.

And then he did grab her and pin her up against the door, and he didn't stop kissing her until she couldn't breathe.

When his lips nibbled at the satin skin below her jaw and she asked what he was doing (as though it wasn't obvious) he took her earlobe gently between his teeth and then muttered "Securing my place in Hell". She giggled and then his mouth was on hers again, their teeth clicking together with the power of their desire.

It hadn't occurred to him until they'd gotten to his bedroom – by some sort of magic and/or possibly levitation, he never could quite remember that part – and he'd gotten her shirt off and was considering removing her bra next, his shirt off, both of their shoes off and somehow his jeans had become unbuttoned, that maybe she'd never done this before. Maybe she'd never done any of this before. Maybe everything they were doing was as far as she'd ever gone. Ever. Maybe she was, saints (that were already conspiring with the devil to think up novel and horrible punishments for him when he got to Hell) help and preserve him, a virgin. Right then he felt disgusted with himself: he realized he'd become entirely used to prostitutes that could take it in any hole you wanted to use as hard as you wanted to give it to them, and some might even consider letting you make new holes if you asked really nicely. He had no idea what he was going to do if he really was about to be her first.

Ali felt him hesitate, mostly because he'd been vehemently disrobing her, his mouth firmly affixed to her somewhere the entire time, at least up until the point when he'd started panicking. He'd suddenly found it horribly difficult to make out and hyperventilate at the same time.

"What?" Somehow, tonight, they'd both managed to reduce hours of important conversation into single words.

House wasn't sure if he wanted the answer, but he was sure he _needed_ the answer. "Have you…ever. I mean, are you a…a…?" He couldn't even bring himself to say it.

"Virgin? Yeah." She'd said it so casually. "But hopefully not for too much longer." She leaned forward to kiss him again, just wanting to be connected to him somehow, and she loved the feel of his mouth, the way he tasted, the way he smelled when she angled her head just like _that_ and could pick up the last trace of his cologne, but he turned his head, her lips landing instead on the curve of his jaw. That was fine with her, and she picked up doing what she'd intended to do, slipping her lips down his neck, biting just hard enough and just gently enough here and there along the way to almost make him lose coherent thought. Almost.

House wanted to speak, to ask _what have you done?_ but that sounded too much like the question he'd be asking himself later tonight. He also didn't want the play by play of every boy she'd ever necked with in a movie theater. When he stopped to think about it, he already knew all he needed to know. She hadn't done _that_. And now she wanted to do _him_. Just when he'd stopped feeling like he was 18 again…

Drawing in a long, slow breath House pulled Ali towards him again and kissed her, hot and soft at the same time and she whimpered again, that same desperate, almost thankful sound that made him both love and hate this turn of events. The skin under his hands felt too soft and too perfect to be real as he flattened his palms and caressed her back, unhooking her bra in one deft motion that betrayed his real age and level of experience. She didn't startle or try to cover herself, just kissed him harder and he had to almost force his hand to go to her breast. When it got there, though, she covered his hand with hers and told him his fingers felt good. He wanted her to feel good. He wanted her to feel _really_ good before he had to hurt her.

He didn't know if he pushed or she pulled, but the next thing Ali knew she was in Heaven, lying flat on her back, skin to skin with House, his mouth doing unbelievable things to her nipples. He didn't grope and squeeze like a teenager in the back of a car, instead he caressed and teased until she was rubbing herself shamelessly against the thigh that was pressed between her legs, mewling little noises of desire and encouragement, her hand frozen at the back of his neck, her body pinned to the mattress in pleasure. She loved the unfamiliar ache in her lower back, loved how she just knew, instinctively, what would make it go away, loved that it was this man that was going to give it to her. Nervousness turned to exhilaration and then back again more times than either of them could count, as though they were taking turns with the emotions.

House forced himself up onto his knees and stripped her pants and thong (_thong!_) off with something that approached reverence. Her legs were perfect; tight, toned, smooth, creamy, and he did a mental comparison between the perfection stretched eagerly before him and his own damaged body and tried to convince himself it would be OK, she had to have at least speculated as to why he used a cane, had probably even found it out somehow, and still wanted him anyway, still wanted him this much. Ali propped herself up onto her arms and then sat, reaching for House's zipper, slipping it down in one smooth motion and wriggling her delicate hand inside to squeeze him so confidently he wondered if he had ever made up that whole "lack of inhibition" thing at all. She started working his jeans down bit by bit, kissing one hip and then the other. When he froze, she looked up at him with those wet sapphire eyes and whispered "It's OK. Whatever it is, it's OK. I just have to have you." House then wondered who the maturity really belonged to in this whole fucked up scenario.

The last time a woman had begged to suck on him, he'd paid her an extra $20 for the performance. Ali would have paid him $2000 for the privilege. House wasn't sure he could take even a minute of her mouth wrapped around him, even though he imagined she'd be inexperienced but more than making up for it in enthusiasm. Still, she wanted so desperately to feel him everywhere she could, he could hardly deny her and so he let her take him in her mouth for a few strokes as he tried to distract himself with images of hemorrhoid surgeries. He'd been right. She wasn't a total novice (which he was actually glad for) but she wasn't a pro either (which he was equally glad for). She had the right idea and was kind enough to wrap her hand around what she couldn't swallow, and the scrape of her teeth here and there wasn't enough to cancel out the warmth and wetness of her mouth. House would still remember it as one of the best blowjobs he'd ever had.

Ali nearly cried when House settled himself between her thighs and let his weight rest against her. She gripped at his shoulders and arched her back and gasped out "Oh god Dr. House you feel so good". He shifted his weight slightly to the left and slipped his right hand between her legs, dragging the backs of his fingers up and down, up and down, time and time again as he watched her fight with herself to keep from pressing herself against his hand. "It gets better," he reassured as he kissed her and felt her melt into him. "And call me Greg," he added with a smirk, parting her with his fingers. She shuddered and buried her face against his shoulder as his fingers found their mark, rubbing her clit with soft, slow, strokes, feeling it harden a little more under his touch. Her breath came in deep but even sighs of fear mixed with pleasure. He wondered if anyone but herself had ever touched her like this before. When he pressed the pad of his finger against her and made firm circles and felt her nails dig into his shoulders. He stretched his arm out and let himself sink down a little more against her and pressed harder with his finger, rubbed a little faster. Ali wrapped her arms tighter around him and tried to stop her hips from jerking into the pleasure his hand provided but failed.

House traced his tongue gently and slowly, ever so slowly over the shell of her ear, hoping to make her shiver. "Like it?" She moaned at the sound of his voice and how soft and sexy it sounded against her ear.

"Yeah," she answered back, her voice shaky and rattling House to his core. He decided to try to get a little bolder with her.

"Is this how you touch yourself?" She didn't have to answer him. The way her breathing fell out of rhythm was enough. "Do you think of me?" She shivered then and turned her face away from him, halfway between the arousal of a woman and the embarrassment of youth. "Come on, Ali…it's OK." His voice was even and soothing, trying to tell her it was normal to let go. House craned his neck and sucked her nipple until it hardened in his mouth, biting gently before letting it go. "I bet you pretend it's my hand…" She turned back towards him, her neck arching. He traced his tongue along the hollow of her throat. "_Please_. Come on. Let go. Tell me."

"Yes." She let the air leave her lungs with the admission and some of the embarrassment left with it. "I wanted it to be you touching me. Always wanted it to be you." House pressed a little harder still and Ali moaned and arched her hips into his touch. "Sometimes…ooooooh." His fingers had hit a particularly sensitive spot. "Sometimes I'd even say your name." It was House's turn to moan then as he pictured this beautiful creature touching herself and calling out his name when she came.

He stroked harder at that spot that had made her cry out and slipped his middle finger down to her entrance and found her hot, slick and soaking wet. She tensed slightly under him but he made no move to press forward, only rubbing and teasing. With his middle finger he could feel her muscles twitching rhythmically, preparing for their release, but he wanted to drag it out a little longer, to give her everything she'd dreamed about. He pressed his finger forward a little harder, still not entering her, not yet, wanting to make sure she was ready. He took an educated guess that she'd probably had something inside her, tampons, her own fingers (_thinking about me, oh dear god_), household items, but she'd probably never had anything inside her in the presence of another person before and if she had, it had almost definitely been a 16 year old boy's middle finger with her jeans still on and the angle all wrong.

Kissing her again he squared his weight against her and slowed down the speed of his hand a little bit. He wanted to feel her come with some part of his body inside of her, so pressed his middle finger just barely in, just a fraction of the pad a fraction of the way and she tensed up again. "So wet…feels so good," House muttered in her ear. Ali pressed against his hand almost imperceptibly. She liked it when he talked to her. "Want me inside you, don't you?" She squirmed and sighed at the thought and begged and told him how much she wanted him and how good he felt as he teased her, then he pushed a little harder and his finger slipped in just past the nail and she moaned, wanting more but afraid to want more at the same time. House let her relax and then pushed in to the second knuckle. She was wet enough and then some and it slipped in easily. "Soon…I'll be inside you soon. I wanna make you come first. I want to make you feel good." Ali rocked her hips and forced his finger in the rest of the way. There was no resistance. Apparently her hymen had already been broken. He hoped that would spare her some pain. He wanted this to be everything she hoped it would be. _He_ wanted to be everything she hoped he'd be.

She held him tight against her, loving the contact almost as much as she loved the feel of his fingers inside her and against her, whimpering with each slow thrust he gave her, crying out when he hit the exact right spots. Ecstasy wouldn't have described the expression on her face. Bliss came closer but still didn't do it justice. He asked her how it felt and if she wanted more, wanting to give her another finger, wanting to make her feel full and stretched and like she was being royally fucked only without the fear and the pain of the real thing, but he never got the chance to give it to her. He felt the finger inside her being squeezed tight and hard and heard her breathing break into strangled little sobs. When he told her to scream his name, she obliged like she'd done it a thousand times, because she probably had. Only not his first name, which was what she called out. House kissed her softly on the forehead and quipped "See? Told you it got better." She smiled a lazy smile and kissed him back.

Only when she'd calmed down a little and her hand snaked down his chest and wrapped around his cock did he realize how badly he needed what he'd just given to her and how close to it he already was. She looked at him with unadulterated hunger and stroked him like she'd sucked him; with only a negligible amount of grace but with enough lust to drive him out of his mind, which he realized he probably already was, considering what he was mere seconds away from doing as well as what he'd just done. He could stop here, secure a seat in the back of Hell rather than in the front. He could absolutely stop…if she'd just stop stroking him like that.

"Ali, we…don't have to." House tried to keep his voice from shaking. "God the way you're doing that feels great." Might as well give her an ego boost while he was at it. Besides, it really did. "You can just keep doing that if you don't want to…" At least then it was _her_ fault, right? And god she was good with her hands. He'd just figured out how she'd stayed a virgin.

"I want to." Ali cut House off sharply. "Every night since I saw you I've gone to bed wondering what it would feel like when you were inside me. I never thought I'd ever get the chance to find out. If I have it, I'm not going to pass it up." So much for the embarrassment of youth. She was damn honest sometimes and House was damn helpless when she was.

"You have it." He reached over her head to open the side table drawer to grab a condom. Actually he grabbed an entire strip of 5 and felt a little gauche at first until he saw Ali looking at him hopefully. In for a dime, in for a dollar, right? "But I don't think you're going to want it four more times." He tried to play off the awkwardness with a joke, just as he always did. Apparently some parts of his brain still functioned, even while in bed with an 18 year old soon-to-be-ex-virgin and that idea was still causing him a few minor issues. He started to open the foil packet (ribbed for her pleasure) and was glad when she took it from him because his hands were shaking too badly to even make a run at suave while putting it on.

"Let me. I wanna touch you some more." She took the condom out backwards at first but figured the physics out before he had to say anything. He propped his head up on his arm to watch, which made her smile nervously until her hands were sliding over him and he couldn't keep his eyes open any more. Her touch left him and she took a moment to survey her work and seemed pleased. The doctor in him made a final look-see as well to make sure she had it right. This was already a bad enough idea. He didn't need a number of years of obligation equal to his current sexual partner's age to compound the folly.

She looked him nervously, the child in her coming out again. "How do you…?"

"How do _you_…?" At least this "conversation" had a topic.

"I want to be able to hold you again." She glanced at his leg and then immediately back, hoping she hadn't made him self conscious. "But can you…you know…with…"

"I'll manage," he said with a reassuring smile, although he hoped Ali wouldn't pick up on the fact that he was trying to reassure them both. Tonight, House felt like he could manage anything. He'd have found a way to do it standing on his head if that's what she asked for. The up side was he probably wasn't going to last five minutes. He'd never considered that an up side before.

House found himself nervous again as she stretched out beside him. At least he could lead with his good leg as he settled back between her thighs. Ali reached for him eagerly, running her hands all over him; over his back, his hips, his arms, too close to the point where she'd never be able to do it again to give up the last chance to touch him and memorize him. How much she wanted him frightened her, had always frightened her. Instinct helped her along and she bent her knees and shifted her hips until she found what she thought was the right angle. House helped with a little fine tuning until all it would take was one final motion. She laced her fingers through his hair and kissed him, exactly as she'd kissed him the first time, hesitant, unyielding and then gradually deeper, until she'd sated herself on him for the moment.

Breathing tight and shallow, he looked at her and found what he needed in her eyes. "I'll go slow," he answered, even though she hadn't asked. And then he finally confessed to her. It seemed only fair, in light of what she was about to let him do. "I haven't ever really done this with a…"

"Virgin?" She seemed to be the only one who could say it.

"Yeah…so you'll have to tell me if…"

"It's OK. I will." _We'll lose it together then._

There was a moment of fumbling and shifting and then House took himself in his hand and (he didn't think he'd ever been this hard pretty much ever) pushed. It was painfully tight, it hurt him too, and Ali clenched her teeth and her breath hissed as she squeezed her eyes shut. She knew it was going to hurt, but she didn't know it was going to hurt like _this_. Just when she wasn't sure if it was supposed to hurt like this or not, her body started to yield to the pressure and the burning let up a little, leaving only a full, dull, and tolerable ache behind that wasn't entirely unpleasant. House felt her relax a little and muttered something he hoped was reassuring as he pushed in another couple inches. Ali's hands relaxed on his shoulders and she shifted her hips up which seemed to help.

"Now. Please." With her teeth and tongue she teased that spot on House's neck that had seemed to close the deal earlier in the evening. "God I've wanted this for so long," she moaned, perfectly timed, the last word leaving her lips as House hit bottom inside her.

The first up stroke made her wince again, her flesh unavoidably raw and taut around him, but the pleasure as he slipped back inside of her was worth it. She was too sore to get all that aroused again; this pleasure was a different kind, like some sort of completion. She held House tightly as he struggled to both let go and not thrust too hard in the process. "Like it?" she teased as he had teased her, between gentle sucks on his neck, mindful of leaving marks, and sharp nibbles on his shoulder.

"Oh yeah…god yeah. So tight…wet…mmm." He was surprised he could say anything at all. She felt amazing. Nothing, no one was ever going to compare to this. House wished he could have gotten that sentence out. "Y'OK?"

"Yeah. Hurts a little but yeah. Feels good too. _You_ feel good…_so_ good." She closed her eyes and filed away the way it felt to have him inside her, his weight on top of her, feeling him all through her.

"Want more? 'Cause I can try to…a little longer." But not too much. Not much at all. _God_ she was so _tight_.

"Of course I…oh _god_ (what _was_ that spot he just hit?)…of course I want more. Wanted this…so long…don't ever wanna stop." She knew there was no way she was ever going to come again because it still hurt too much, but it was starting to feel good. Really good. House's thrusts were slow and smooth and she could feel all of him every time he moved and it felt better than she could have ever imagined, better than she _had_ ever imagined. He shifted onto his left arm and grabbed her leg with his right, coaxing it over his hip, letting him slip in even deeper, knowing she wanted it but hoping at the same time that she could take it. Ali bit her lip and whimpered and House thought he'd pushed too far until he felt her hand pressing on his hip, urging him to do it again. He managed two more deep, torturous strokes before his body wouldn't let him hold back any longer. He heard Ali breathe out _yes_ and he couldn't tell if it was passion or amazement. He suspected it was a little bit of both.

She winced again when he pulled out, even though he did it as slowly and smoothly as he could. He reached over for a tissue and cleaned up and heard Ali huff a small smirk. Her fantasies obvious hadn't included cleanup duty. They lay quietly, both unsure of what supposed to come next. Under ordinary circumstances House would have either paid up or kicked her out. Lately it had been both. Under these circumstances, the first wasn't necessary and he didn't really want to do the second right away. He didn't want her to stay – he never wanted anyone to stay – but he didn't terribly mind her being there either. Eventually, when there was nothing else to not say, she sat up and dressed and he made do with his jeans and t-shirt and nothing else.

House surprised even himself by walking her to the door. He grabbed his cane on the way past the couch, but wasn't so self conscious of it anymore. "So," she said with a wistful smile.

"So," he answered back.

"I promised I won't try to find you again. I meant it. So don't worry."

"Good." He tried to sound relieved and failed miserably. "I hope I didn't scar you for life."

"You didn't. I'm glad it was you."

That hadn't been what he'd meant, but it was good to know. Definitely good to know.

Ali looked at her watch. It was 10:40. "I took the bus." The last bus was at 11:00.

"OK." House knew she'd just tried to explain something to him, probably a couple of things. He hoped he'd gotten them.

"Goodbye." She gave him a shy and hug, said thank you, and then shut the door behind her. House leaned against it and actually smiled. Like he meant it.


End file.
